


the marks on her skin

by cumulativeChaos



Series: Sashavist AU [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Archivist Sasha James, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumulativeChaos/pseuds/cumulativeChaos
Summary: After returning to the Institute and confronting Elias, Sasha goes with Tim to get patched up.---Written for Hurt/Comfort week, day 5: hiding pain/injury.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Sashavist AU [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988587
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	the marks on her skin

**Author's Note:**

> these bitches soft.... good for them........ good for them............

The wound on Sasha’s neck is easy to hide under her trademark turtleneck. The burns on her hand, not so much. When she’d stormed into the Archive, ready to raise hell and confront Elias, the first thing Tim had said was “Jesus, Sash, what happened to your hand?”

Well, no. The first thing he’d said was her name, wide-eyed and wondrous, as if she’d returned from the dead. Which was ridiculous, because she wasn’t _dead,_ she’d just been on the run from the law. Which, yeah, still somewhat alarming, but not worth the stares the Archive staff gave her.

After their confrontation with Elias, Sasha retreats back to her office, not sure what to do next. It’s weird, being back after so long spent hiding at her old college roommate’s flat. She’d gotten used to the smell of weed and the sound of nature documentaries playing from the living room. Now, the silence and smell of old papers seems oppressive, somehow.

She gets back to work as quickly as she can, working through the backlog that’s built up in her absence. Most of it is more research on fake stories, and they upload quickly to her computer. The ones that don’t record she sets aside for later, deciding that today is not the day she works on those statements. She doesn’t realize how much time has passed until Tim is strolling into her office with a cheery, “Knock knock, boss.”

“Tim,” Sasha says, closing her computer. “Can I help you?”

“Was actually going to ask if I could help _you,”_ Tim says. “Let me see your hand.”

Sasha freezes. If she were standing, she would back away. “It’s fine,” she says. “You don’t need to worry about it.”

 _“Sasha,”_ he says in that stupid sing-song tone, the one he uses when she’s being stubborn. She rolls her eyes at him. “Come on, let me look at it.”

She bites her lip, debating her options. She could throw a stack of statements at him and run the other direction. She could pretend to see a worm, even though Jane Prentiss is long dead. Or she could just suck it up and show him the burns.

She barely winces as she unwraps her hand. She watches as Tim’s eyes widen in shock and his face pales. Where Jude’s hand had grasped hers the skin is raw, red and blistering. She’d only caught a brief glimpse of the damage before she wrapped it up, but it looks as awful as Sasha remembers.

 _“Jesus,”_ Tim breathes.

Sasha rubs at her neck. “It’s fine,” she lies. The skin still stings, even now.

“All right, that’s it,” Tim says. “I have some first aid stuff back at my place, I’m going to properly take care of that.”

“Tim, no,” Sasha says.

“Unless you want to go to A&E?” he asks.

Sasha bites her lip. “Fine,” she says. “But if you keep fussing over me I’m firing you.”

Tim grins. “Sure thing, boss.”

* * *

Tim’s flat is close to the Institute, barely a ten minute walk. The evening air is cool against Sasha’s burnt hand. She can’t help but rub at the wound on her neck again. It’s starting to itch persistently.

The first aid kit Tim produces is extensive: there’s bandages, gauze, antiseptic wipes, medicine, a thermometer, a tourniquet, and a splint. When she asks why he has so many supplies, Tim’s face falls.

“Danny used to get into all kinds of messes,” he says. “I got used to patching him up, when he visited.”

“Oh.” Sasha doesn’t know what to say to that, so she shuts her mouth and lets Tim wipe burn cream across her hand. His touch is incredibly gentle, even as she winces through the pain. He’s careful with her, moving slowly and making sure he gets every inch of the burn. Sasha can’t help but stare as he gently cradles her hand.

“Why do you keep rubbing your neck?” Tim asks.

Sasha’s free hand darts away. “No reason,” she blurts.

Tim fixes her with a stare. “Come off it, Sash,” Tim says. “You’ve been touching it all day. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she insists, but she knows it’s a lost cause. Before she can react, Tim reaches up with the hand that isn’t covered in burn cream and pulls the top of her turtleneck down an inch. Sasha’s hit with a sudden memory, deeply buried in the recesses of the “Big Mistakes” section of her mind: Tim, pressed against her, pulling her turtleneck down to suck a deep bruise into her neck, and Sasha thinking to herself that she was glad that turtlenecks were already her brand.

Back in the present, Tim frowns. His eyes are on the hasty bandage she’d slapped on the knife wound Daisy had left. “Sasha…”

Face flushed, Sasha bats his hand away and leans back, so their faces aren’t so close. “It’s fine,” she says. “Just a scratch.”

“It’s still _bleeding,”_ Tim says.

Damnit. “Oh, I like this turtleneck,” Sasha whines.

“How did this happen?” he asks. His thumb brushes over the corner of the wound, where a scab has started to form.

“Murder cop,” Sasha says. “It’s not a big deal, honest.”

“Bullshit,” Tim says. “Look, I’m going to get you a t-shirt to change into, and then I’m going to bandage that up _properly,_ okay?”

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Fine, whatever,” she says. “If it makes you happy.”

“It does,” Tim says, then he steps back and heads in the direction Sasha knows leads to his bedroom. Another memory, unbidden: Tim’s shirt half-unbuttoned, Tim’s hands roaming across her body, lips dancing together as they stumbled blindly in the dark towards Tim’s bed.

Sasha shakes her head, clearing the image away. Now is not the time.

Underneath her shirt she’s wearing a plain sports bra, nothing special, but Tim still squeaks (literally, actually _squeaks)_ when he returns, t-shirt in hand. He turns around quickly, arm extended towards her and eyes squeezed firmly shut.

 _“Really,_ Tim?” Sasha asks, laughing. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been a while since the last time,” Tim says. “You caught me off guard, okay? I didn’t expect you to already have your shirt off.”

“Whatever,” Sasha says, grabbing the shirt from Tim and pulling it over her head. “You can look, now.”

Tim’s face is slightly flushed when he turns back around. Sasha can’t help but smirk as Tim clears his throat and returns to the task at hand.

He peels the bandage Sasha had applied; it all but slides off, already slicked with blood. He uses a damp towel to dry off the blood, then uses a generous amount of antiseptic ointment on the wound. Sasha hisses at the sting, but she remains still. After that, Tim wipes his hands on the towel and cuts a generous square of gauze before pressing it firmly against the cut. “Hold that for a moment,” he says, reaching for bandage tape.

With her good hand, Sasha holds the gauze in place. She doesn’t look away from Tim’s face as he carefully tapes the gauze to her throat. His tongue pokes out as he concentrates, and the space between his eyebrows creases. It’s somewhat adorable.

“There,” he says when he’s finished. He leans back, inspecting his handiwork. “Much better.”

Sasha smiles at him, then suddenly feels her smile begin to wobble. _Oh no,_ she thinks to herself, just as tears begin to roll, unbidden, down her cheeks.

“Sash?” Tim’s voice is panicked. His hands flutter nervously around her, unsure of what to do. “Sasha, what’s wrong?”

Sasha shakes her head. Words aren’t working for her right now. After a few gasping sobs, she holds her arms out. Tim, thankfully, recognizes a request for a hug when he sees one, and wraps her up in a warm embrace. Sasha clings to him as she sobs, tears and snot dripping onto Tim’s shirt, but Tim just rubs circles into her back and whispers to her that it’s okay,

“I d-don’t know what’s happening to me,” she says, voice thick with tears. “I’m-I’m _changing._ Tim, I’m _scared.”_

“I know,” Tim says softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay!” Sasha pulls back, not out of Tim’s arms, but far enough that she can look him in the eye. “Tim, I’m becoming a _monster!”_

“Okay,” Tim says.

_“Okay?”_

“Okay,” he repeats. “Then you’re some spooky supernatural monster. You’re still Sasha.”

Sasha’s lip wobbles. She pulls Tim back in, squeezing with all her might. Tim’s body is warm, solid. Grounding.

“I missed you, y’know,” Tim says quietly. “I was worried.”

Sasha sniffs. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tim says. “It’s not your fault.”

“I missed you, too,” Sasha admits. “I would’ve come to you, but I knew you’d be one of the first places they’d look.”

“Where are you hiding out, anyway?” Tim asks, prompting Sasha to snort.

“I told you about Tracy, didn’t I?”

 _“No,”_ Tim says, pulling away to stare at Sasha in horror. “Terrible Tracy? Would try and have sex with her boyfriend while you were still in the dorm?”

“That’s the one,” Sasha giggles. Her tears are subsiding now, leaving her with a strong case of the hiccups. Her chest shudders against Tim’s.

“I hope you’re not planning on going back there tonight,” Tim says. “Not if you don’t have to.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Sasha says. She suddenly realizes what going back to her flat would mean, though, and she finds herself dreading returning home. “I don’t want to be alone, though.”

She didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, but Tim only reacts with a shrug. “Not like you haven’t slept over before.”

“These are different circumstances,” she reminds him.

She might be imagining it, but Sasha swears she sees Tim flush slightly. “Well, yeah,” he says. “Offer still stands, though.”

“This is highly unprofessional,” she says in a fake-serious voice. Tim laughs at that.

“I think we’re past that point,” he says. He’s smiling, his trademark lopsided grin, and it makes her chest clench. He really is unfairly handsome. Her gaze lingers a moment too long, staring into his dark eyes, and she realizes that she’s leaning forward, slowly closing the gap between them.

Clearing her throat, Sasha leans back. Tim blinks, dazed, then swallows and looks away.

“I’m sorry,” Sasha says. “I don’t… I still stand by what I said. We would be a bad idea.”

“I know,” Tim says. He sounds defeated. “I’m not trying to pull anything here. I just want you to feel safe.”

“I do feel safe,” Sasha says. “I feel safe with you.”

The smile Tim gives her is blinding. “Then I’m happy,” he says. “Come on, let’s order dinner and watch shitty reality television.”

“Yes, please,” Sasha says.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a lot more for this au planned so stay tuned!!


End file.
